


The W Files

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drunkenness, First Time, Humor, M/M, Porn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach respects Chris’ privacy – he does, really – but it seems that Chris barely respects Chris’ privacy. Why else would he have a folder under “Downloads” on his hard drive labeled “WANK”?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The W Files

**Author's Note:**

> If you need a (totally SFW) visual, [this](http://totallylookslike.icanhascheezburger.com/2009/10/20/eli-roth-totally-looks-like-zachary-quinto/) is the website mentioned in the fic. Now with bonus epilogue!

For someone so intelligent, cultured, and worldly, Chris is surprisingly naïve at times. Take, for example, his attitude toward the paparazzi. He always acts so damned shocked that they’re following him around all the time, snapping pictures of his every move. Not like he grew up in LA – or, hell, America – with tabloids at every checkout lane in the supermarket. He acts like the guys with the cameras get up every morning with the express intent of pissing off one Chris Pine, and no matter how often Zach tries to explain that they’re just doing their jobs, Chris always takes it personally.

Or take his laptop. Zach has. Chris is in the shower, taking an astoundingly long time to get ready for a heterosexual man, so long that Zach almost regrets offering to drive them both to Anton’s thing tonight. Zach respects Chris’ privacy – he does, really – but it seems that _Chris_ barely respects Chris’ privacy. Why else would he have a folder under “Downloads” on his hard drive labeled “WANK”? All capital letters, too. And if there is a WANK folder, Zach has to double click. He has no choice. He doesn’t necessarily _want_ to see big-boobed Swedish lesbians slapping each other with herring (or whatever the hell straight guys wank to), but the mountain is there. He must climb it. That’s just how it is.

Despite his lack of common sense in folder labeling, Chris is apparently quite organized when it comes to his porn. There’s a “Lesbians” file and an “Anal” file and a “Naughty Schoolgirls” file. The pictures and videos are neatly tagged by sex act, participants, and kink, so should Zach feel the need to see some redheads indulging in cunnilingus while wearing butt plugs, he could find it with just three clicks of the mouse. Highly efficient – even Spock would approve.

Even more remarkable is the presence of gay male porn. There’s not a lot of it, but it’s there, and it’s tagged just like the others. Zach is genuinely surprised – he would’ve placed Chris at a solid 0 on the Kinsey Scale but, really, who is he to judge? It certainly goes a ways toward explaining the lengthy shower regimen. If he’s judging anything, it’s the poor quality of the porn. He’d love to make a few recommendations. He’s just considering downloading a few things and sneaking them into Chris’ elaborate tagging system when he spots the folder marked “Untitled.” That, he thinks, is actually more out of place than the gay porn, all things considered. What could possibly be so shameful as to go unlabeled? Well, he’s in this deep; he might as well venture into the final frontier.

They’re all still pictures in the file, all of men with the same basic features and build. One man seems to show up repeatedly, and it takes Zach a second to place him. It’s that guy, the Bear Jew from Inglourious Basterds – Eli something, the one who directed those torture movies. Eli Roth, that’s it. A lot of the pictures are Eli Roth, and the ones that aren’t _of_ him look a hell of a lot _like_ him.

So it would seem that Chris has a crush – though why all the pictures are segregated shamefully into their own folder is a mystery to Zach. Maybe Chris actually knows the guy, so it’s a little weird? Zach’s never heard Chris mention him, but then again, Chris never mentioned anything about experiencing vicarious enjoyment from watching two greased up men go at each other like bulls in heat. Not a bad-looking guy, this Eli Roth. Zach approves.

Zach is no fool; when he hears the water shut off, he quietly closes out of the WANK folder and resumes his earlier activity – racking up a new high score on Text Twist. Hundreds of dollars he’s spent on the most advanced video gaming systems, but Flash browser games still manage to keep his attention far longer than anything else. He’s actually pretty deeply into it when Chris finally emerges, looking artfully messy and wearing that aftershave that he won’t let Zach borrow (because Zach wouldn’t know what to do with all the ladies who would suddenly become inexplicably attracted to him).

“Ready _now_ , princess?” Zach asks, grinning as he types in the six-letter word that means he’s won this particular round of Text Twist.

He can pretty much hear Chris rolling his eyes. “This coming from the man who must engage in at least 20 minutes of eyebrow grooming before going anywhere?”

Zach decides he is feeling sassy. “You like horror movies, Chris?”

“What?”

“Y’know… Cabin Fever, Hostel, that sort of thing.”

Chris makes a face. “That torture porn stuff? Ick, no. I like older horror films – The Exorcist, Rosemary’s Baby…”

“Huh. You a Quentin Tarantino fan?”

“He’s alright, though I can’t decide whether he’s actually one of the coolest people alive or if he just thinks he is.”

“Did you like Inglourious Basterds?”

“It was… Wait, why the hell are you suddenly so interested in my taste in movies?”

“Just, y’know, curious,” says Zach, pretending to be the nonchalant-est motherfucker in Nonchalantville on National Nonchalant Day. “Need to know what to put on my Netflix list for our next movie night.”

“Oh… okay. Hey, will you put the original Amityville Horror on there? Still haven’t seen that one.”

“Sure thing.”

&&&

  
“Who let Anton throw the party?” Zach whines to Zoe, bracing himself as yet another blind-drunk, giggling girl apparently mistakes him for a load-bearing pillar and hurtles into him for support. He has no idea where the hell Anton found this many girls on short notice, but most of them don’t look old enough to buy cigarettes, let alone drink. Of course, Anton doesn’t look old enough to drink (that’s because he isn’t, not yet, but Zach can hardly blame him after his own misspent youth), so there’s no telling. Zach will, however, make damn sure that if Chris pulls tonight, he will check at least two forms of ID stating that the girl is over 18. Or, hell, the _guy_ , not that there are more than half a dozen guys at this party.

Zach hates this party.

“Is he renting this house?” Zoe asks, clearly as disgusted as Zach is. “I hope to god he’s not renting this house.” She points to a spot on the carpet where a lot of something violently green has been spilled. If they’re lucky, it’s just an appletini mixer. If they’re not…

“Let’s fight our way to the balcony,” Zach yells over the (horrible, horrible) music. He tries valiantly to clear a path for Zoe, but she’s doing a better job with her stiletto heels (“Oh, was that your foot? I’m so sorry!”) than he could with his arms, so he ends up following her out. The air outside is blessedly free of the stench of desperation, and he breathes it in with flair. He knows what he wants to talk to Zoe about – he hasn’t really stopped thinking about it since he found out, and maybe he shouldn’t be discussing it with Zoe, but she can keep her mouth shut when she wants to. He found that out after she got wise to an ill-advised week of sloppy makeouts he’d had with most of the costume department. He had to bring her lunch for a week, but she never breathed a word.

“Hey, Zoe,” he starts. “You ever get any indication that our dear Chris was, say, less than ruler-straight?”

Zoe just snorts. “What?” demands Zach.

“Seriously?” Zoe asks, her eyebrows raised. Zach nods, and she says, “He’s totally bi, Zach. I mean, he’s not vocal about it, but there have been hints.”

“Like what?”

“Like his man crush on Karl.”

“Oh, come on, that’s just an artistic thing.”

Zoe snorts again – it is not a flattering look for her. “Also he told me, ‘Zoe, I like to have sex with men.’”

“Liar,” Zach gasps, his mouth dropping open. “Teller of lies. He said no such thing.”

“Well, okay, he didn’t phrase it like that. But I was bitching about my ex and how he gently requested oral sex by shoving my head toward his crotch, and Chris started a sentence with ‘Yeah, I had this boyfriend once…’”

Zach is speechless. Obviously he knew Chris was at least somewhat attracted to men (Exhibit A: WANK folder), but fantasizing about it and acting on it are two different things, especially given the publicity inherent in his chosen profession. And he had just told Zoe this out of the blue?

Zoe stares at him incredulously. “How have you functioned this long as a gay man with that incredibly shitty gaydar?”

Zach manages to gather enough of his wits to bluster, “I do not seek them out, Zoe. _They_ come to _me_.”

She laughs. “Oh, I hate you, but that’s probably true. So what brought on that line of questioning? Did Chris touch your bathing suit area?”

It’s Zach’s turn to snort. “No, I was just borrowing his laptop, and there were some things…” Zoe cocks an eyebrow – when the hell did she learn how to do that? “Okay, I snooped. A little. I’m not proud of myself. But there was a file called WANK. All capital letters. I couldn’t not.”

“Eh, I probably would’ve clicked, too,” she sighs. “So, is he into anything weird?”

“Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

“Well, how weird are we talking – silk ties and feather dusters or paintable latex and gas masks?”

Zach does not ask. “No, nothing like that. Though there were all these pictures of this one guy. And not only him, but a bunch of guys that looked like him, too.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Maybe. Or at least you might have heard of him. Eli Roth? He’s that horror movie director who was in Inglourious Basterds. The guy with the baseball bat.”

This time, Zoe’s jaw drops. “Eli Roth? You said him and guys that look like him?”

“Yeah. So?”

Zoe whips out her phone, her slender fingers allowing her to type at a decent speed on that tiny-ass keyboard. She stares intently at the screen, waiting for the page to load, then taps the screen. Taps it again. Then passes it to Zach. “This site is called TotallyLooksLike.com.”

Oh, _fuck_. This cannot possibly be what it appears. Yet there it is, right on the screen. Their pictures side by side, complete with the heading “Eli Roth Totally Looks Like Zachary Quinto.” Well, at least they got the order right – doesn’t matter who was born first, Zach is the original to whom all others must be compared.

“This doesn’t…” Zach starts, then stops. “Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s about me. It could be a coincidence. Right?”

“Zach, which is more likely: that Chris has a crush on some guy he’s never mentioned to you or to me, a guy I doubt he’s ever met, a guy that just _happens_ to look almost exactly like you… or that he has a crush on _you_?”

“Then why not just have pictures of me? A simple Google search would bring up a lot of very enticing options.”

“I don’t know – who knows how men’s minds work? Ask him.”

“Are you insane?”

“Aren’t you attracted to him?”

“Zoe, just because I’m a gay man doesn’t mean I’m attracted to—” There’s that fucking _eyebrow_ again – no wonder Kirk gets so irritated with Spock. “Okay, fine, I’d hit that like a leaky piñata. Are you saying I should actually pursue this?”

Zoe shrugs. “Why not?”

It’s such a ludicrous question that Zach wonders if either he or Zoe has been the recent victim of head trauma. Because they’re friends. Because they’ll be working together again. Because if it got out, it’d be a publicity nightmare. Because he’s not in the habit of launching himself at men who have never so much as hinted at a desire for cock.

“At least talk to him,” Zoe says, interrupting his train of thought. “I guarantee you’re gonna be looking at him funny for at least a couple of days, and he’ll want to know what’s up.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Also, you two would be fucking _adorable_ together.”

Zach sighs. “Yes, it is perfectly reasonable to make life-changing decisions based upon what Zoe Saldana finds ‘adorable.’”

“Life-changing?”

“Shut _up_. I’ll talk to him.”

&&&

  
Zoe was right. Even though Chris is nicely buzzed, he seems to catch on to the way Zach has been staring at him all night, trying to discern if the way Chris holds his drink or rights an upended floor lamp might contain some finely nuanced hidden message, something like _I want Zachary Quinto naked_. Zach’s findings are ambiguous. On the one hand, okay, if he squints just right, his horribly malfunctioning gaydar does ping quietly. On the other hand, Chris spent a good deal of the night on the dance floor sandwiched between two writhing ladies. On the other _other_ hand: WANK.

“What the hell?” Chris says as they walk back to Zach’s car. “You approved this outfit before I left the house, so I know I haven’t made a Quinto Fashion faux pas.”

“What, I can’t appreciate your ass in those jeans?” As soon as the words leave Zach’s mouth, he knows they won’t help the situation. Chris’ eyes narrow – Zach has always been careful not to flirt with him so directly, even if he does occasionally indulge in some ass appreciation. But thankfully Chris drops it, and the drive back to his apartment is notable only for Chris’ particularly tuneless rendition of “Get Into My Car.” The irony is not lost on Zach.

Chris is liquid sex. Zach has always known that; it was just much, much easier to ignore when Zach thought (no, _knew_ ) he was straight. It’s a pretty vital defense mechanism, the ability to keep the unavailable ones tucked neatly into the “look, but don’t imagine in a French maid’s outfit” category. Now that Zach knows Chris isn’t averse to a little man-on-man action, it’s a free-for-all inside Zach’s brain. The shine on Chris’ wet lips, the artless way he sprawls in the seat, even the reckless abandon in his god-awful singing – these are all turned into hardcore pornography in Zach’s head.

Tonight is off-limits, though – Chris is pretty buzzed, but Zach has to make sure he gets in okay. It’s a pact they made each other so that neither one suffers the indignity of waking up on the living room floor in his clothes the next morning. “Can I come in?” Zach asks as he shuts off the engine.

“You have to ask?”

“Fine, next time I’ll barge right in.”

Chris fumbles with his keys. “Okay, I’m drunk but _you’re_ the one acting weird. You were staring at me all night.”

“Utter narcissist.” Zach snatches the keys from his hand and unlocks the door himself. “You saw what you wanted to see.”

“Why would I want to see you staring at me?”

“I don’t know,” Zach stalls as he heads to the kitchen. “You tell me.”

For a drunken man, Chris looks suspiciously pensive, and Zach decides that if there is ever a right time for this conversation, it is not now. “You’re not planning on asphyxiating on your own vomit tonight, are you?”

Chris rubs his eyes. “’m not _that_ wasted.”

“I suppose that’s true – you have yet to babble on about the intellectual supremacy of Tesla over Edison,” Zach muses, grabbing the pitcher from the fridge and pouring a glass of water.

“Edison was a dickbag,” mutters Chris, taking the glass from Zach’s outstretched hand. He’s so deliciously pliable when he’s drunk.

“And Tesla had balls so blue he started hearing voices from outer space.”

“Correlation, not causation!” Chris cries between gulps of water.

Zach sighs. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m sorry I mentioned it.” He takes the empty glass and gently steers Chris towards his bedroom by the elbow. “Time for all good princesses to get their beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, well, you—” Chris turns on him in what Zach assumes is supposed to be a vaguely threatening manner, but then Chris’ brain-hamster slips off its wheel and the words don’t seem to be there anymore. He licks his lips out of habit and Zach nearly falls over. “Fuck, I was trying to make a joke about princesses kissing frogs, but now it’s gone.”

Zach acts offended. “Well, you’re obviously the princess, so that would make me, what, the frog?”

Without warning, Chris suddenly leans in and lays a loud, wet smack of a kiss on Zach’s lips. Then pats him gently on the head. “There. Now you can be a pretty princess too. G’night.” With that, he turns on his heels, walks down the hall to the bedroom, and shuts the door behind him.

It takes Zach another thirty seconds to find his voice. “Prince,” he says weakly toward the closed door. “I’d be the handsome prince.”

He is _so_ fucked.

&&&

  
If Zach expected the furious jerking off to help him sleep, he was sorely (ugh) mistaken. He tosses and turns, running all sorts of eventualities in his head, only about 20% of which end in naked fun times. The other 80% end with screaming, awkwardness, bruised egos, or – in one particularly vivid scenario – Zach being hogtied, wrapped in bacon, and left for the coyotes. Though at that point, he might’ve actually been slightly asleep, because the next thing he knows, the sun is blazing through the blinds and Noah is whining as though his bladder’s about to burst. Even the damn dog is a drama queen.

He needs Zoe’s help; that much is clear. She seems to know what’s going on – of course, yesterday Zach would’ve said the same thing about himself, but it’s become abundantly clear that he’s had his head up his own (firm, perfectly toned) ass.

“So should I just seduce him or what?” Zach says into the phone before Zoe can even say hello.

“I’m doing well, thanks for asking. I assume you’re talking about Chris?”

“He kissed me last night.”

“ _What_?” Zoe squawks.

“Okay, it wasn’t a real kiss. He was pretending I was a frog.”

“Unhelpful.”

Zach gestures ineffectually. “He was the princess!”

“Of course he was, baby.”

“Okay, now you’re just humoring me.”

“Only a little bit. Now just what are your intentions toward Chris?”

“My intentions?” Zach huffs. “You plan to be sitting on the porch, oiling your shotgun when I come to pick him up?”

“Zachary, listen to me carefully. You are my friend and I love you, but if you break Chris’ heart, I will disembowel you with a soup spoon.”

“You’re on his side?”

“There are no _sides_ , you idiot. But I’ve been giving this some thought. Why do you suppose Chris hasn’t mentioned anything about this little crush to anyone?”

For once, Zach is silent as he considers this. Chris is a fairly private person in general – even if he hasn’t yet learned his lesson in password protection – but he hasn’t hesitated to mention a past crush or two that he’s had on set. Which means that if he hasn’t told anyone about this thing for Zach – and Zoe would be the first person to know if he had – it might be more serious than a little crush. Zach feels guiltier than ever for having snooped around.

“You’re not exactly known for your long-term relationship skills,” Zoe continues. “And you know Chris is looking for more than a quick fuck with you.”

“That’s not all I am,” says Zach indignantly.

“I know that. But does Chris?”

Zach sighs heavily. “So what do I do?”

“Romance him.”

“Don’t you think he’ll be a little suspicious if I show up on his doorstep with wine and candles?”

He knows Zoe’s rolling her eyes. “Yes, which is why you show up with a Wii remote and a dictionary… or whatever appeals to that kinky little word thing you two have going.”

Zach pauses. “Is it really that kinky?”

“ _Please_. I have seen you two trying to out-syllable each other. It’s practically foreplay.”

“I’m still not sure this is going to work.”

“Don’t stress – I’m up for a little wingman duty. I’ll plant the seed, you just have to water it with your manly… juices.”

It’s Zach’s turn to roll his eyes. “Probably not the best metaphor.”

“I regret nothing.”

&&&

  
Four days later, Zach gets the tip-off text from Zoe. Seems she had to rudely cancel her dinner with Chris at the last moment, and Zach is lucky enough to make a timely phone call.

He doesn’t bring the Wii remote – Chris has four already – but he does bring his phone with the Dictionary.com app on it, prepared to enter another round of discourse on one of his favorite subjects: Chris is Still Living in the Stone Age. So far Zach’s been less than successful at getting Chris to rise to the bait, as he simply doesn’t seem to care that Zach has the most impressive gadgetry around. It’s downright un-American is what it is. But Zach might be making some headway tonight.

“It has a whole dictionary on here?” Chris asks, the slight tremor of eagerness in his voice giving him away.

“And a thesaurus,” Zach says with a smug grin.

“Alright, gimme!” Chris yanks the phone out of Zach’s hands and starts tapping away at it. His tongue is sticking distractedly out of the side of his mouth, and Zach has to remind himself to breathe. “Hmm…” Chris says, reading off the screen. “Affected, arty, assuming, aureate – ooh, that’s a good one – big, bombastic… chichi? What the hell?”

“What are you looking up?”

Chris grins as he holds up the phone. “Synonyms for pretentious.”

“Oh, hush,” Zach mutters, grabbing back the phone. “I also have the complete works of Shakespeare on here, so there.” To elegantly hammer home his point, he sticks out his tongue.

Chris laughs, his eyes crinkling sweetly. “Okay, that is pretty cool. Fine, you got me – I am finally jealous of your phone.”

“Be still, my heart!” Zach says, clasping his hands over his chest.

The smile still gracing his lips, Chris shuts the pizza box and takes both of their plates. “I’m so glad you called when you did. This was fun.”

“Kicking me out already?” Zach asks, following Chris to the kitchen.

“No,” he says, rinsing the plates. “Just didn’t know if you had, uh, plans for the rest of the evening.”

“Nope, I’m all yours,” Zach says, and he’s sure he doesn’t imagine the way Chris’ hand stills on the faucet for a moment longer than it should. Zach takes a deep breath and a big step forward until he’s close enough to rest his hand on the other man’s shoulder.

Chris turns, his eyes widening a little in shock at seeing Zach standing so close. “Everything alright, man?”

“Yeah,” Zach says quietly, with what he hopes is an inviting smile. “Hey, you remember me telling you about breaking up with Doug a year ago?”

“Doug the Deluded Douchebag? How could I forget with charming alliteration like that?”

“Yeah, well, I only found out about the douchebaggery there at the end. Other than that…” Zach bites his lip, genuinely nervous now. This is harder than he thought. “I really sort of thought he was it for me. So when that ended, I went a little… irresponsible.”

“Okay,” Chris says slowly, obviously confused.

“Just, you and I really only became good friends after that, so what you’ve seen me do – flirt with everyone in the room, pick up a different guy each night, make out with most of the costume department—”

“Did _not_ know about that one.”

“Focus, Christopher.” The younger man makes a face, but Zach keeps going. “My point is, that’s really not normal behavior for me. I got hurt, and I thought the way to get it out of my system was to spread myself around, enjoy the flirting and the sex but nothing more. And I gotta say, it was fun, but it’s not really working for me anymore.”

Chris chews on his lip nervously, and Zach has to beat back the urge to offer to do it for him. “I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me this, but—”

“I just need you to know that before I tell you… Chris, I screwed up. When I was on your computer the other day, I found your, um, porn folder.”

“Oh,” says Chris, his face turning to stone as the realization hits him. “ _Oh_. Oh, god. So you saw—”

“I saw a certain collection of pictures. So, either you have a huge crush on Eli Roth, or…”

“Or,” Chris moans, hiding his face in his hands. “Definitely ‘or.’ Oh _god_.”

Zach gently takes a hold of Chris’ upper arms to let him know he’s not going anywhere. “Don’t worry, I’m not freaking out. I didn’t even get it at first. This is going to sound hugely narcissistic, but why not just pictures of me?”

When Chris lifts his face from his hands, it’s beet red and he can’t meet Zach’s eyes. “Because it would be too… I mean, I couldn’t… Oh, fuck, I don’t _know_ – it felt like crossing a line, you know? I mean, while we were filming, I had to see you every day, and I didn’t think I could face you if I… It’s an arbitrary line, but it’s still a _line_ , dammit.”

Zach chuckles softly and tips Chris’ face up with a finger beneath his chin. “It’s okay – you’ve got the real thing now anyway.”

Chris stiffens. “What? No. If this is, like, a pity thing… I’m not asking you to—”

“Chris, I didn’t even know you were bisexual until Zoe told me the other night.” This earns Zach a look of genuine confusion. “Yes, I’ve been told I have the worst gaydar known to mankind. It’s a problem. And I never try to seduce the determinedly heterosexual. What I’m saying is that, until the night of Anton’s party, I thought you were off limits.”

“On limits,” says Chris in a rush, and Zach loves the little glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Totally on limits. Or within limits. Or whatever.”

“Chris,” Zach whispers, leaning in, “I would really, really like to—”

Chris doesn’t even wait to find out what Zach would really, really like to do; he captures Zach’s mouth in a hard kiss, bringing his hands up to pull Zach even closer. It catches Zach completely off guard, and he nearly loses his balance.

Pulling back abruptly, Chris gasps, “Oh, I’m sorry, was that too—”

Zach doesn’t give a flying fuck what it was ‘too;’ he just wants it to happen again, so he licks brazenly at the seam of Chris’ lips until he parts them. He tastes like tomato sauce and cheap beer and Zach wants _more_. Chris grabs fistfuls of Zach’s shirt, dragging him backwards through the kitchen and into the hall even as he weakens Zach’s knees with a deft twist of his tongue. Fuck, does Chris know how to use that mouth, and it takes Zach about ten seconds in the hallway to go from half-mast to completely hard and throbbing in his jeans.

They have to break for air somewhere around the doorway to Chris’ bedroom, and Chris moans, “I want—”

“Me too.”

“But I didn’t even—”

“I don’t _care_ – at this point you could flog me with a cane switch and I’d love it. Get naked already.”

Chris gives a breathless laugh and pulls his shirt over his head. “Thought I’d save the flogging for the second date.”

They’re both completely graceless, Zach momentarily stuck in his shirt and Chris hopping around trying to yank off his jeans, but somehow they both make it to the bed, and Zach helpfully strips off Chris’ remaining sock. Chris tackles him down, finally bringing their naked bodies together and both men moan at the sensation.

Zach could easily get off just like this, his erection pressed hot into Chris’ hip and Chris’ tongue in his mouth, but he owes Chris for the porn thing. “How do you want me?”

Chris groans and bucks his hips, but actually stops to consider it. He rolls them over so he’s lying beneath Zach, then scoots up the bed until his shoulders are propped up on the pillows. He pulls Zach up for another deep, filthy kiss and whispers, “Suck me.”

Zach moans at the mere thought of it, kissing quickly down Chris’ neck, spending a few moments playing with his nipples before descending further. It’s early yet – they’ve got all night for slow and careful. Right now, Zach just wants to make Chris’ eyes roll back in his head. He circles Chris’ navel with his tongue, which earns him a pair of hands yanking at his hair. “No teasing,” Chris commands, his authority belied by the breathlessness of his voice.

But Zach can’t take much more anyway, not with Chris looking at him like he’s a wet dream come to life. He nips at the skin over Chris’ hipbone just to feel him jump a little before licking Chris’ swollen cock from root to tip. After that, Zach doesn’t tease, just takes Chris full in his mouth and alternates swirls of his tongue with hard suction until Chris is all but wailing with each bob of his head.

“Zach,” Chris gasps, “touch yourself. Please, I wanna see.” When Zach gets a hand around his own erection, he groans so deeply that Chris’ hips thrust off the bed and he nearly chokes. Chris threads a hand through Zach’s hair in apology. “Sorry, I’m— oh, _fuck_ , Zach, so good.”

Zach looks up and it’s almost too much, Chris’ blue eyes wide and his mouth hanging open as though he’s watching something he never thought he’d see. And that makes Zach redouble his efforts, the knowledge that Chris has thought about him like this, spent who knows how many nights wishing his own hand was Zach’s – it’s inspiring and intimidating at the same time, because he wants to be better than any fantasy Chris could possibly dream up.

And he’s pretty sure it’s working – Chris is rapidly falling apart, and the sound of his broken rambling alone could be enough to push Zach over the edge: “Zach, oh god, never thought I’d— Your mouth is so— Fuck, do that again, _yeah_ , just like that, gonna— oh, Zach, I’m so close, just a little more, you’re so fucking—fuck, I’m _coming_ , Zach, I’m—”

It’s only by using both hands to hold Chris’ hips that Zach manages to hold off his own orgasm. Chris is deliriously beautiful, a perfect picture of abandonment and Zach swallows him down, tenderly guiding him through a few hip-twitching aftershocks. He lets the younger man’s spent cock slip from his mouth and presses soft kisses to his belly, all the way up to his chest, where Chris’ heart is still pounding.

Chris’ eyes fly open. “Zach, did you—”

“No, not yet.”

“Then do it. Let me see.” With surprising strength, he hooks his hands behind Zach’s knees and pulls him forward until Zach is kneeling over his hips.

Between the grip of his own hand and the hunger still in Chris’ eyes, it takes less than a dozen strokes and Zach is coming all over Chris’ chest. He tries hard to keep his eyes open, to see Chris watching him, but they shut of their own accord, the pleasure of being ogled so greedily too strong to fight.

“So gorgeous,” he hears Chris murmur from a thousand miles away, and a strong hand stroking his thigh helps bring him back to reality. “Zach,” Chris whispers, cupping the older man’s cheek, and Zach can’t handle it. It’s too much; to keep himself from saying something embarrassingly premature, he ducks his head and begins cleaning Chris’ chest with short strokes of his tongue. Chris quietly lets him, resting one hand in Zach’s hair and the other on the back of his neck, keeping him close as he gathers his own taste from Chris’ skin.

When he’s done, Zach feels much less likely to humiliate himself and looks back up at Chris, who is already grinning wickedly.

“You know,” he says slowly. “You never did properly apologize for snooping around my computer.”

“No way, I totally did!” Zach gasps incredulously.

“Nope. You admitted you screwed up, but I never heard an ‘I’m sorry.’”

“And this—” Zach gestures vaguely at their spent bodies “—wasn’t apology enough?”

“’Fraid not,” Chris says with a chuckle. “You grievously invaded my privacy.”

“Oh, c’mon, there wasn’t even a pass—”

“ _Grievously_. And you still haven’t said it.”

“I’m sorry, alright?” Zach huffs, but he really does still have some lingering guilt. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have snooped, no matter how intriguing the file names or how desirable the ultimate outcome.”

“Mmm, okay, I forgive you. But there’s still the matter of punishment…”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.”

“So what’s the damage?”

“Your body belongs to me for the rest of the night.”

Zach grins. “I think I can handle that.”

 

 **Epilogue -- Later That Night**

“So, um, exactly how extensive was your exploration of my, uh…”

“Porn library? Spank bank? Finely organized collection of masturbatory materials?”

Chris claps a hand over his eyes. “Yes, that.”

“I got a general overview of your love of ladies wearing butt plugs, but I’ve got to say, the gay stuff was pretty poor quality.”

“First you break into my porn stash and then you _insult_ it?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Zach says quickly, rolling over to press apologetic kisses to Chris’ collarbone. “Why don’t you just tell me what you’re into and let me find some good stuff for you?”

“Oh, what I’m into, huh?” Chris chuckles, getting comfortable as Zach licks and nips his way down Chris’ chest. “You want specifics? Okay, I’m into gorgeous, intelligent, yet slightly arrogant brunet men who like to get down on all fours and have their skinny asses pounded by ruggedly handsome Lotharios with blue eyes and a stunning command of the English language.”

Zach lifts his head. “Okay, I just _know_ you’re trying to tell me something, but what?”

Chris lets out a surprised laugh, one hand coming up to trace Zach’s cheekbone with his thumb. “Well, the ‘on all fours’ part is negotiable and the pounding can wait, but the basic scenario is one of my favorites.”

“Well, aren’t you a lucky bastard tonight?” Zach growls, rolling onto his back and pulling Chris on top of him.

“You have no idea.”

Chris kisses Zach deeply, stealing the breath from his lungs as their tongues curl and lash against each other. Zach couldn’t get away if he wanted to – Chris is pinning him down so hard he can barely rock his hips up against the other man’s thigh as his cock starts to swell again. When Chris finally pulls back, Zach is nearly gasping. He’s completely at Chris’ mercy and his heart squeezes hard in his chest at the thought. “Chris,” he says before he can think better of it. “I’m yours.”

“Mmm, for the rest of the night,” Chris murmurs happily as he nuzzles Zach’s throat.

“For as long as you want.”

Chris doesn’t even pause. “That could be a while.”

“I know.”

“Is this what you want?” Chris asks softly, lifting his head to look Zach in the eye.

“Yes,” Zach says fervently, wanting to leave no room in Chris’ head for doubt.

“Mmkay then,” Chris says with a gentle smile and an open-handed smack to Zach’s hip. “Up on all fours.”

“The pounding?”

“The pounding.”

“Bring it.”


End file.
